Puppy Love for Christmas

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Christopher had it all planned. After his visit with Marcus, he checked in at the Animal Sanctuary and found out what time Sabrina usually clocked out. He killed some time by taking in the Christmas fair. He plotted out where they would start all the way to the moment of the lobster crate tree lighting ceremony. It would be romantic. It would be perfect. The best plan ever. Then, when the time came to pick up Sabrina, he stopped by Bake My Day and bought up two steaming cups of their famous hot cocoa.

Everything was going so well. They strolled. They laughed. They counted down. Christopher took his chance. He reached out and held Sabrina’s hand. She wasn’t letting go. His heart performed parabolic arcs inside his chest. Then Troy showed up and his blood ran cold. Of course, the ex had come home for the holidays. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.

When Sabrina let go of his hand, it was like the ground stopped feeling solid beneath Christopher’s feet. He accounted for every eventuality and somehow missed the most important piece of the puzzle. There Troy stood in a gilet over a flannel shirt, jeans, a beanie, and an expectant look on his face. Every bit the All-American, Abercrombie and Fitch jock that he was. Christopher threw up a little in his mouth thinking about Troy that way. The truth was hard to swallow and tasted bitter sometimes.

“Hey, Sabrina,” Troy said, hands stuffed into the front pockets of his gilet.

“What are you doing here, Troy?” Sabrina asked.

Christopher wished there was more annoyance than surprise in Sabrina’s voice. Actually, he wished a lot of things. Like maybe a little snow. Or maybe a Black Widow movie. Or maybe Troy being sucked into a black hole. Anything could happen.

“Hoping to catch you at the crate lighting ceremony” was Troy’s simple, yet sincere reply. Christopher hated every word of it. The guy was smooth, he’d give him that. “Can we talk?”

Christopher didn’t wait for Sabrina to check with him. He said, “Hey, Troy.”

“Wakefield.” Troy nodded his way. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just a couple of days ago.” Then to Sabrina, he said, “Thanks for going to the fair with me. We’ll catch up, okay?”

The look of shock remained on her face when she nodded. Christopher smiled, hoping to show her that having her ex materialize out of thin air—even if it wasn’t scientifically possible—didn’t bother him in the least. Not at all. Nope. He was being cool about this. Feeling his smile twitch and a scowl looming, he took a couple more steps back then turned and walked away.

***

It was a little passed eight when Christopher walked into his house. His mind still clung to the idea that maybe he shouldn’t have left Sabrina with Troy. Maybe he should have checked with her if she wanted to be left alone with her ex. But everything in Christopher froze up. The awkwardness of the situation pulled him away. Marcus would be so disappointed in him.

“You’re back early,” his mother said from the living room.

He paused at the foyer before making his way to where his mother sat on the couch, a book in her hand. He bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he remembered the algorithm.

“Mom, can I get my laptop back?” It felt weird to be asking. It wasn’t like he was grounded or anything. He was a grown man. He should have access to his electronics.

His mother frowned. “You shouldn’t be doing any work while you’re home. What about some dinner? I can heat up something for you. Or a sandwich. You must be hungry.”

His stomach grumbled as if in response. His mother’s frown turned into a smile. She put down her book and stood up from the couch. Then she led the way into the kitchen. Christopher followed, working on what he could say to get her to give him back his laptop. He hadn’t even thought about work since coming home. Which was highly unusual for him, but a welcome change.

He took a seat on one of the counter stools. “A sandwich would be nice.”

“We have turkey and roast beef,” she said as she made her way to the fridge. Its surface was filled with Santa magnets.

“Turkey,” he said. “Do we have any swiss?”

“Coming right up. Do you want that cold or hot?”

“Hot.” The simple exchange brought back memories of afternoons spent in the same kitchen after school. When his mother was home, she made it a point to cook and keep him fed. Even then Christopher had the tendency to forget to eat if he was wrapped up in something. Usually his studies.

A comfortable silence passed between them as his mother assembled the sandwich. She switched on the panini press. It was always the best way to melt cheese, in Christopher’s opinion. He hopped off the stool and grabbed a cola from the fridge. There was a picture of him and Sabrina hanging Christmas ornaments on the tree. They must have been nine at the time.

“Is dad still expecting us to decorate the tree?” Christopher asked, fondness in his tone.

“Your father is already picking out a tree as we speak.” His mother set a plate with a newly pressed sandwich in front of him as he sat back down.

“Did you know that Sabrina is doing great work over at the shelter?”

“We actually make donations there every year in the name of Einstein.”

Christopher’s chest tightened. “You do?”

His mother squeezed his hand. “We loved that dog as much as you did.”

As a way to distract himself from the memories of his beloved dog, he picked up the sandwich and took a bite. The swiss cheese was perfectly melted and brought the turkey breast meat to life. His mother even put a pat of cranberry jam on the bread to balance out the salt. It was heaven.

Once he swallowed and felt more able to speak without his voice breaking, Christopher said, “I offered to help Sabrina out in any way that I can.”

“That’s nice.” Her smile warmed. “It’s so good to have you home.”

He saw his chance. “That’s actually why I need my laptop. Sabrina is having a hard time spreading the word about the Adopt-a-thon. She’s worried no one might come.”

“What does this have to do with your laptop?” His mother looked at him with great skepticism in her expression.

“I put together an algorithm that might help, but I need my laptop to use it.” Christopher took another bite of the sandwich, letting his words sink in.

His mother thought about it for so long that he actually thought she would refuse. He had been halfway through eating the sandwich when she left the kitchen and came back with his laptop bag. She started to hand it to him only to pull it away at the last minute as he started to reach for it.

“But you have to promise me that you will not do any work,” she said, all seriousness on her face. “This is to help Sabrina, nothing else.”

Thoughts of checking his email flew out the window. It was as if his mother knew what would happen.

He crossed his heart. “I promise that all I will do is hep Sabrina.”

His mother stared at him a long minute before she finally handed over the bag. “I’m trusting you with this. Don’t waste your holidays cooped up in your room.”

She knew him all too well.

***

The next day, Christopher found Marcus participating at the gingerbread house decorating contest at the park by the ice rink. One of the many holiday activities for both locals and tourists alike. Not willing to wait until the contest concluded, Christopher entered and picked a spot across from Marcus, who was already busily piping white icing onto the roof of his house. The quarterback was actually creating shingles with red gum drops.

“That trophy is mine,” Marcus said, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.

“Has anyone told you how competitive you are?” Christopher picked up his own white icing and decided on red and green M&M tiles for his roof. “Not everything has to be a competition.”

“Oh, come on, Math-whizz.” Marcus raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off his creation. “Says the guy who stopped at nothing to get the chess team to Nationals.”

“Okay, fine, maybe we’re both a little competitive,” Christopher conceded. “And we won that too. My crowning achievement in athletics to date.”

“Admit it, the holidays wouldn’t be fun if we didn’t participate.”

“That might as well be the town motto.”

“Not like you’d know, you haven’t been back in sixteen years. Things might have changed.”

Christopher put down his pipping bag and threw his hands up in the air. “You’re not going to give me a hard time about that too.”

“It’s our prerogative. Not to come home is like being a traitor to the town. Even folks who moved away still find ways to make it home for the holidays around here.”

Marcus had a point. Mr. and Mrs. Patton moved all the way to Florida after they retired and still they made it up to Trevor during this time of the year. Everyone came home. Everyone.

“Look, I’m sorry I stayed away.” Christopher continued his decorating. “But I’m here now. That has to make up for something.”

“Jury’s still out.” Marcus narrowed his gaze at Christopher. “You might have to participate in the Polar Run for things to be square.”

“Oh no . . .” Chris shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

The Polar Run was a mini marathon that happened two days before Christmas. It was basically a short run around town that culminated in jumping into the Atlantic via Point Pleasant, the second highest cliff in town. The first highest happened to be the one the Wakefield sat on. No big deal except all participants were required to where nothing but their best swimwear and rubber shoes. That usually meant boardshorts. Bonus points if they wore a Christmas design. Runners usually wore Santa hats or creative Christmas headbands. One year there were even runners who went in their birthday suites. Those guys nearly froze to death since they picked one of the coldest years to participate naked. Not their proudest moment.

“Then I don’t think you’ll be able to make up for those lost years.” Marcus shrugged. “I’m just saying.” He, of course, was a frequent participant of the Polar Run. Even winning a few of the races in a row. There wasn’t really a prize. The run was for charity.

“I’ll risk it.”

“Them is fighting words.”

People have been giving Christopher disappointed looks around town. He wasn’t a religious guy by any definition of the word, but he did know the story of the prodigal son. Only in his case, no one threw a party in his honor. At least the grandmas finally stopped smacking him with their handbags.

“So, how did the Christmas fair go?” Marcus asked, returning a majority of his attention back to his gingerbread house. He moved on to the windows, which he used crushed candy canes as the outline for.

Christopher had to hand it to him, the quarterback was creative. “We had fun.”

“Tell me more.”

“It was close to perfect.”

“I’m sensing a snag here.” He eyed Christopher. “You chickened out on holding her hand, didn’t you? How many times do I have to tell you to grown a spine, Math-whizz? Girls like a little macho with their men.”

“I don’t think that’s right.” Christopher popped an M&M into his mouth. “But you’ve got it all twisted. I did hold her hand, and it was during the crate lighting ceremony too.”

“You dawg!” Marcus paused in his decorating to give him a high-five, which Christopher returned half-heartedly. “Okay, sensing once again that something happened. She let go, didn’t she? Aw, I’m sorry, man. At least you tried though. Props to you on that.”

“That’s not it.”

“Wha-aaa-t?”

Marcus’s elongated “what” would have made Christopher laugh if it didn’t feel like he had several lumps of coal in his stomach. “She was actually holding on. I was pretty sure we were heading toward something.”

“I’m getting you. Where did it all go wrong?”

Christopher appreciated the fact that Marcus paused his gingerbread house decorating to give him all his attention. Their friendship may have been born out of Marcus’s tutoring needs, but the quarterback was the closest Christopher came to having a best friend in town. Not counting his friendship with Sabrina, which was nothing traditional either. Skipping a couple of grades really put him at an awkward spot, friends wise.

He sighed. Was it true that the truth would set him free? Nothing like the present to try.

“Troy showed up,” he said.

Marcus’s face contorted as if he had put a handful of Sour Patch Kids into his mouth at once. “Ooo! That’s bad.”

“Tell me about it, I was there. The look on Sabrina’s face—”

“Was she happy to see him?”

“More like shocked.”

“That’s good.”

“Good? Marcus, her ex showed up wanting to talk. I took that as my cue to leave.”

“You did the right thing.” Marcus rubbed his chin, smearing some sugar icing there.

“More like a coward move on my part. I should have stayed. Stood my ground or something.”

“Trust me.” Marcus raised a hand as if to stop traffic. “You did the right thing by leaving. Right now, you don’t have any claim on Sabrina at all. You two held hands. That is all. If you stayed, it would have made stuff much more awkward for you and for Sabrina. Plus, the last thing you want in that moment is for Sabrina to ask you to leave.”

“Didn’t wait for that to happen. I acted like Troy showing up didn’t bother me and told her that we’d catch up.”

“Look at you scoring points for guykind.” Marcus grinned from ear to ear. “I think I underestimated your wooing skills.”

“Wooing skills?” Christopher looked at the quarterback skeptically. “I never pegged you as someone who uses the word ‘wooing’ in a sentence. What are we in the prohibition era or something?”

“That’s stereotyping. I know words.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“One thing you have to know . . . Sabrina really hurt when Troy left her in the dust the way he did last year.”

“How do you know that?” Christopher asked only to say in unison with Marcus, “Moms.”

The mom grapevine was potent and thriving in Trevor. Nothing went unnoticed. Everyone knew everything about everyone in town. No secrets. Because secrets led to problems. And problems weren’t fixable when they festered. Privacy still held true in Trevor. Just not by much. Your business was everybody’s business. For your own good. Many marriages were saved that way.

“But then why would she want to talk to Troy?” Christopher asked in confusion. If he were her, he’d want nothing to do with the guy who broke her heart.

“They have history, you have to give them that.” Marcus rubbed his chin again. “If I remember correctly, they were a pretty stable couple. Had their fights, sure, but they stayed strong until the end. Everyone actually thought they were going all the way.”

Christopher grimaced, rubbing his belly. The lumps of coal mashed together in a mosh pit of pain. “That’s it then. Might as well give up. They’re surely getting back together. You should have seen Troy last night. Expectant as a puppy.”

“I never thought of you as the giving-up type, Math-whizz.”

“How am I supposed to compete with Troy.” He gestured at Marcus. “He’s basically you 2.0, except white.”

“As much as I’d like to take that as a compliment, there can only be one me.” Marcus wiggled his eyebrows.

Christopher rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Regardless, this is not the time to give up.” Marcus held up a finger. “First, you left, so you don’t know what happened after. Unless someone overheard their conversation, we can’t tell what they talked about. For all we know, Sabrina dropped him like a hot potato.”

That made Christopher think. Marcus was right. Troy broke her heart. Despite their history together, it doesn’t mean she would take him back just because they had one conversation at the Christmas fair. But there was still that small voice in his head that told him “What if.” He hated that voice. It sounded like Leonard Nemoy.

“What if they are getting back together?” he asked, needing an answer to the nagging question or he wouldn’t sleep that night.

“So what if they are?” Marcus challenged. “That doesn’t mean you have to stop trying.”

But everything in Christopher wanted him to stop. For Sabrina’s sake. “If she’s happy with Troy then who am I to get in the way of that?”

“How knight-in-shining-armor of you.” Marcus made annoying baby sounds before he sobered and pointed at him. “Nothing is for sure. You like Sabrina?”

It was more a statement than a question, but Christopher nodded an affirmative anyway.

“Then you have to keep trying. If Troy is making a play for her, it’s up to Sabrina to choose. But how can she do that if you don’t give her the option. It’s unfair to you and to her if you keep your feelings to yourself. Like you said, she wasn’t letting go of your hand. That means something.”

“This is like Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle,” Christopher said, brain clicking into gear.

“The what now?”

“Basically, you can know the position of an electron but you can’t know its momentum or vis versa.”

“You’re nerding out on me. Human speak, please.”

“It’s like this. We know Sabrina but we don’t know what her choice will be.”

“Okay, let’s pretend I get you.” Marcus scratched his head. “This is like Newton’s First Law.”

Christopher blinked, impressed. “An object will remain at rest unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. Basically, nothing can happen if I don’t make it happen.”

“Exactly!”

“You’re brilliant!”

Marcus sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, a smug look on his face. “I told you I know things.”

Picking up his discarded piping bag, Christopher nodded and returned to decorating his gingerbread house.

“I see that face,” Marcus said, smirking. “You’re planning something.”

“You bet I’m planning something.” He grinned as well. “First, I’m going to beat your ass in this competition.”

“Oh, hell no!” Marcus picked up his own decorating implements, tip of his tongue already out.

“Then I have some volunteering to do.”